


Heliotropic

by sapphic_werewolf



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio), UNIT: the New Series (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Other, also call ur reps the planet is fucking dying, but also very talented and should think more of herself, but we all should, i guess, osgood is a gay mess, thirteen in no reality should be let around a tattoo needle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 09:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20486444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphic_werewolf/pseuds/sapphic_werewolf
Summary: Osgood turns towards the Doctor as a sunflower to sun.orOsgood tells her mental illness to fuck off and goes to get a tattoo.





	Heliotropic

**Author's Note:**

> hi there! i wanted to write smut, but guess what i'm soft.
> 
> first chapter is sort of an osgood character study cause *marge simpson voice* "i just think she's neat."
> 
> second chapter will be 13 and osgood talking and unpacking hero worship and gender etc, cause osgood hating her name? that's some baby trans shit. 
> 
> (according to the osgood wiki page, osgood has tattoos of all of the doctors' previous regenerations, which i think is an intriguing character detail) 
> 
> thank u for reading!

Petronella Osgood did not like herself very much. Sure, she reasoned, she had a lot of good qualities: she was kind, she was observant, she was caring, she was smart (_a genius, even_, said a voice in the back of her head that sounded like Kate). She even supposed she had a snappy sense of dress. Well, snappy was the nice word for it, the word Osgood used when she was feeling more forgiving of her flaws, what she whispered when she did a little turn in front of the mirror in the mornings.

The negative words were never far behind: tacky, dumpy, unfashionable. Osgood pushed those thoughts away. The Doctor dressed like her, or, rather, she dressed like the Doctor. And the Doctor was never unfashionable, certainly not tacky. Or, well, if they were, they were unfashionable in a fashionable way. They could always pull it off. And if she could just emulate them well enough, maybe she could too.

Petronella Osgood did not like herself very much, sometimes, but honestly, it was easier to not think about it. The apocalypse was not going to wait while she worked through her self-esteem problems. She supposed there was something to be said for positive reinforcement, every day gone by that she was alive and breathing, Armageddon averted. And still that little voice in the back of her head: _You could have done better. You should have done better. The Doctor would have done better. The Doctor would have saved her._

It always came back to her. Petronella Osgood. Her sister. Her double. Her other half. Osgood had always wanted a twin, and that twin telepathy thing that was said to come with it, if she was being honest. All at once, she had had one, had one better. And then, just as suddenly, she hadn’t. The knot in her stomach tightened, and there was the bitter ache of grief in her throat again, and it had been so long, but it still hurt so much, and it was hard to move on when every time she looked in the mirror she saw her sister’s face.

Sometimes, she wanted to linger in front of the mirror forever, like if she stared at herself long enough, she could bring the other Osgood back. Other times, she wanted to dye her hair, to cut it off, to scar her face, anything to make her reflection feel like her own again. Osgood couldn’t decide, and so time decided for her. As time went on, she began to notice the little changes: eye bags, mascara, the scar on her eyebrow from that fight with the Silurians (significance aside, she thought it made her look quite dashing), the beginning of summer freckles. All things the other Osgood would never have, things Osgood felt guilty for having. But guilt was an old friend, magnified as it was by grief. She knew how to handle this, and so she would because she had no choice.

  
Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her reverie (no, not revery, that was too light a word). Appointment at Schramm’s in 30 minutes. Shit, she had almost forgotten. Thank god for gcal. She stepped away from the mirror, pulled on her boots, flicked out the lights, and locked the door.

And of course, then she had to unlock the door to check the stove though she hadn’t even used it since Tuesday and had she turned off the sink (yes) and then she was back out the door locking and checking it before she could get consumed by an OCD brain spiral. She didn’t have time for this shit today. She had somewhere to be.

Schramm’s was a charmingly little tattoo parlor, clean and compact and tucked away outside the clamor of central London. She’d been skeptical, the first time she’d come here, as the name seemed more befitting of a run-down pub (the wood sign that swung crookedly above the door didn’t help). But she’d asked Kate for recommendations, and Kate had never let her down. All of a sudden she was lost in the memory.

-

_Kate had asked then about her tattoos, and Osgood had told her, blushing, about the numerous iterations of the Doctor that dotted her skin (as well as a few _stick_ and pokes from uni). She’d expected Kate to laugh at her, but Kate simply tilted her head, processing, before breaking out in a small private smile, like she was laughing at a joke she and Osgood were both in on. Osgood loved those smiles._

_ “I think it’s a lovely form of devotion. Do you get a tattoo of everyone who means a lot to you, or just him?”_

_ Osgood coughed, Kate and her both reaching for her inhaler at the same time. She took a breath, thought for a moment. Kate was still staring steadily at her, the slightest furrow in her brow. This wasn’t a hard question, Osgood knew, but it still made her blush. The truth was, though the Doctor was the only one she had tattoos of, she had spent many late nights designing and redesigning a tattoo about Kate. But Kate didn’t need to know that. That would be highly unprofessional, and she’s probably want to stop being Osgood’s friend. She’d probably think Osgood was a creep. She cleared her throat._

_ “Just him, um, for now.” and then after a second’s pause, “Thank you… for not laughing.”_

_ Kate placed a comforting hand on Osgood’s shoulder, and even beneath two layers of fabric, Osgood’s skin tingled._

_ “I would never laugh at you. Especially not at something that meant so much to you.”_

_ Between Kate’s firm gaze and her warm hand on her shoulder, Osgood felt absolutely frozen to the floor. Everything felt so serious all of a sudden. She had to do something to alleviate this tension, to reassure Kate, to remove Kate’s hand from her arm (but, oh god, did she want nothing more than to keep being touched by Kate), to lower the temperature of the room by about 21 degrees._

_ “Thanks. Uh, do you have any tattoos?”_

_ Oh god. Was she even allowed to ask that of her boss? Were they on the friendship level where she was just Kate Kate and not UNIT Boss Kate? Was that too personal a question? Osgood wanted to dig a hole in the ground and live in it; aliens be damned._

_ But Kate seemed unperturbed._

_ “I have two. I would show you, but I’m afraid that would not be work appropriate. Lunch?”_

_ Kate was already moving towards the cafeteria, leaving Osgood a stammering gay mess in her absence. Was that flirting? Was her boss flirting with her? Was Kate even into women? Did work-appropriate mean her tattoos were on her back or were they somewhere more private? What if Kate had a tramp stamp? What if Osgood was super into that?_

_ Osgood’s fingers tingled as she thought about running her hands over the small of Kate’s back, Kate slowly outlining each of Osgood’s own tattoos, her hands reaching lower -_

Ok now, Osgood, shut that down, she’s your (probably straight) (very attractive) (possibly flirting with you) boss. She’s your boss. _And, Osgood realized, she was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. Osgood hurried out to meet her, giddy and totally fucked._

-

Of course, Kate had been spot on. The shop was brightly lit and smelled of lilacs and antiseptics. There was a little waiting room in the front, where a binder full of various designs showcasing each artist’s works sat on a coffee table. Next to the binder were pamphlets on tattoo and piercing care, as well as a vase full of white heliotropes. Osgood had stroked the petals lightly. Real, she noted.

The employees had all been friendly, and Osgood felt at ease almost immediately. The artist had been excellent too, precise and steady, checking in from time to time to make sure all was (Os)good. A bit more on the expensive side, but it was going to be on her body forever, so Osgood figured she might as well splurge.

The bell jingled when Osgood entered, and the very buff, very tattooed man at the counter looked up, features softening into a smile at her arrival.

“Hey Charles.” she gave a little wave, which he returned, the restrained gesture made cartoonish by his large form.

“Hey, Oz. Good to see your face. Here, come see this one - courtesy of Mia.” Charles gestured to a spot on his bicep which was decorated with two scribbled stick figures, one tall and bald, the other small with a mass of curly hair. They were holding hands and smiling. Similar tattoos were all over Charles’ body. Osgood supposed it was his way of hanging up Mia’s drawings on the fridge.

“I love it. She’s developing quite a style.”

“She’s going to be quite the artist, I can feel it. Oh, by the way, you haven’t met Joanna, have you? She’ll be tatting you up if you’re down for that. Pretty new as far as it goes, but whew, does she have some talent! You can take a look in the binder if you want, but her style is pretty consistent with what you like” he lowers his voice to a conspiratorial tone “even more than me, if you can believe that.”

“Even better than you? I’ll believe it when I see it. And yes, that’s fine.”

“Wonderful! Alright, well, she’s all set up. You’re in room two whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Charles. Good to see you again.”

Osgood stepped into the hallway, briefly glancing at the nametag on the wall. _Joanna Smith. Huh. Fake name? Charles seems to like her. A rose by any other name…_

She knocked lightly on the wall.

“Uh, hello? Joanna? Ms. Smith?”

A face popped around the corner. Osgood took in the woman, all wild blonde hair and shining eyes, clad in flowy blue pants, dark shirt, and yellow suspenders. It was a face she knew well, though they had never met.

“Osgood! Good to see you again!”

It was the Doctor.

**Author's Note:**

> wow u made it to the end! thank u!
> 
> i have not written fanfic a lot so please tell me if u liked it, and how i can improve. 
> 
> if it is hard to read on mobile, please lmk
> 
> (also if u have any requests, lmk!)


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